


Alone

by ConsultingTimelordWizard



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/M, LIKE SERIOUS ANGST, Loneliness, The Sign of Three Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingTimelordWizard/pseuds/ConsultingTimelordWizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone used to protect him. </p><p>Not anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> So this is post "The Sign of Three" and really doesn't have /too/ many spoilers (if any), but just in case I've tagged it as such. Can't be too careful :)
> 
> (Btw that episode got really sad really quick omg)

"We can't all three dance."

Sherlock nodded and gave the happy couple a grin as John and Mary strode off . The two grinned at each other, and if he didn't know any better he'd have said the two were radiating happiness. It effected the whole audience, everyone who had attended to see these two lovely people bind together in holy matrimony earlier that very day. 

Well, almost everyone. 

Sherlock stood awkwardly where the two had left him, looking around the room and studying everyone. He knew a total of five or six people in this room, not including those he had met today. Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade were dancing in one corner, Molly dancing behind them with her fiance (Tom, was it? Ron?). Out of the picture, then. He looked around some more, shifting a bit and smiling as Janine grinned at him. She was an interesting soul to say the least. If he were an easier person, he'd probably befriend her, given time. Maybe more. But tolerating her was the furthest he'd go at this point. At least she was bearable. 

Ah, but she was occupied too. Curse his matchmaking skills. 

That left...he frowned. No one. Everyone was happy while Sherlock Holmes was not, left behind when everyone else had moved on with their lives. Slowly he walked to the stage and placed the composition in an envelope--"Dr. and Mrs. Watson" it read--on the stand, leaving it and his violin there. He'd fetch it later. 

Taking one last look at the room--did no body want to converse? want to dance, even?--he vanished, pulling his coat around his body like armour and feeling more lonely then his two years away from home had ever made him feel.

 He really did love to dance.

-*-*-

"John?"

"Yes Mary?"

"Where's Sherlock?"

"...I...I'm not sure. He has to be somewhere. He wouldn't just leave."

"He's done it before."

-*-*-

Six nicotine patches adorned his body. Three cigarettes were in a tray stolen from Buckingham Palace. Two clear syringes, empty of contents, were on the floor. 

Sherlock didn't care that this was how Mary and John found him when they came by to say goodbye before their honeymoon. He didn't care about any of it. 

They were happier without him. He was unneeded. 

Alone. It was what protected him.

 Not anymore.


End file.
